Restaurant critic: Let's chew the fat

I'm dining at Zov's in Tustin when I notice a big man with a smooth head and a smiling mustache who's acting like he might be the manager, or perhaps the owner, watching me from across the room. He circles my table a few times before he finally approaches from behind and puts his hand on my shoulder. "I know who you are," he says, winking, clearly proud of himself for spotting me.

I look up and return the smile. He doesn't introduce himself. He just starts patting me on the back: "I've been wondering when you might show up," he says. "It's nice to have you. Is everyone treating you OK?"

"Everything is great," I say, looking him in the eyes. But of course that's a lie. I ordered the pork chop and specifically requested that it be cooked medium-rare, but the meat arrived burnt to a crisp. Dried out and tough to swallow, like warm pork jerky. I don't send it back because I'm dining with my boss for the first time, and this isn't a review.

I've been busy dining around Orange County for the past several weeks, and Zov's hasn't been my only early disappointment. I dined at Gabbi's Mexican Kitchen in downtown Orange, which was one of three nominees for "best Mexican restaurant" in the OC Golden Foodie awards last month, so I figured I owed them a visit. My first impression? The chips are terrible. Unacceptable. I've had better chips at TGIFridays. First impressions are critical, and I can already list a half dozen other Mexican restaurants to which I'd rather return.

Thankfully, I haven't had too many real clunkers yet. I've enjoyed some truly wonderful meals. I'll save the details about those for now. Starting next week, my reviews will appear weekly in this space. I won't pull any punches. I'll introduce a four-star rating system. The top-tier rating will be rare. Goose eggs will also be possible, although I never look forward to those.

I base my ratings on the holy trinity of dining out: food, service and ambience. Naturally, food will always be the most important measure of a great restaurant. But I've always believed service and atmosphere are integral to the overall experience and thus must be heavily weighted in the rating. As the adage goes: Great service can sometimes save bad food, but great food can never save bad service. I'll review new places and old. I plan to cover a variety of styles, from the ultra-casual to the pinnacle of fine dining. In determining a rating, I always take price into consideration, which means that a very expensive restaurant that's just pretty good for the price, but not necessarily great, might end up with the same rating as a hole in the wall whose food is revelatory and transcendent. I might recommend both places equally, but for different reasons, and I will strive to manage expectations accordingly. After all, that's ultimately the critic's job: to help manage the public's expectations. Obviously, a food truck or hole in the wall with fluorescent lighting and plastic forks will never attain four stars. The ultimate rating requires an extraordinary degree of grace and refinement in every detail. Most restaurants don't strive for that, so the holy grail for them will remain out of reach.

Star ratings will always be based on multiple visits (typically three). I dine as anonymously as possible, never making reservations in my own name or announcing my arrival. If you are a restaurateur, and you notice my name in your reservation book, relax – it's not me. I won't accept freebies or discounts. I never attend media dinners.

I like all cuisines, at all levels, as long as I'm treated hospitably and the food is delicious. I'm on a never-ending quest to find the perfect burger. I eat tacos four times a week. I always look forward to four-hour dinners with wine pairings and deep conversation, and if there's a way to sneak in a few bites of foie gras, all the better. I have an extremely low tolerance for frozen French fries at chef-driven restaurants. Right, I realize Thomas Keller serves frozen fries at his Bouchon bistro chain, and it's the dumbest decision he's ever made. Sure, you can dress them up with truffle oil (which I don't despise) and Parmesan, or even deep-fry them in duck fat, but they still taste like frozen French fries. Lazy and cheap. For what it's worth, the best fries I've ever eaten were at David Pratt's Mirabeau in Dana Point, which closed several years ago.

There has already been a lot of gossip and press about me joining the Register, so some of you might be wondering, "Who the heck is this guy? And what qualifies him to divvy up and dole out the stars?"

I'm a former chef/restaurateur – and a former waiter, busboy, dishwasher, bartender, prep cook, sommelier, floor sweeper, barista – who has been writing about and critiquing restaurants around the world for nearly 20 years. And while I've been reviewing restaurants in Southern California for the past 11 years, I've also eaten sea slugs in China. I've rolled my own spring rolls in the back alleys of Hanoi. I've enjoyed six-hour degustations in Paris. I survived a 12-course fugu feast in Tokyo. I've choked on millet paste in Uganda and had wine spilled in my lap at Joel Robuchon in Las Vegas (which I still consider one of the best restaurants in the world). I've eaten at the best street-food vendors and fine-dining restaurants alike in Bangkok, Singapore, Penang, Shanghai, Madrid, San Sebastian, London, Milan, Munich, Sao Paulo, Puebla, Marrakesh. ... And along the way, I've won the James Beard Award and the World Food Media Award for restaurant criticism – two of the biggest prizes a food critic can win, domestically and worldwide. (I've been nominated for James Beard three times; World Food Media, five.) So, unlike 95 percent of the reviewers on Yelp or Zagat or whatever blogs you might follow, I have a pretty good context and track record around which to base my opinions.

I don't expect everyone to agree with my reviews. Taste, after all, is subjective. But agree with me or not, you will always know exactly where I stand.